Poems ✍️

Hey, Self - how do I know that you exist?
Or are you just a word - a useful term
for what we hope our real nature is,
those things about us which we're proud to affirm?

So, can we know you? How to start the search?
A dictionary hardly gives the clue;
Or are you always far beyond our reach?
A mirage always 'too good to be true'?

Or, are you so close known, that we can prove -
by dropping off all that we know we're not -
that what is left is what we are: true love:
that, which we always are; cannot be got.

O Self, you must be all that's true and real:
for without you, we'd never know unreal.